Isaac: A Journey to Oregon

By Kevin Boos

Isaac and Abe were completely different, but together they traveled from an orphanage in St. Louis, Missouri to the Willamette River in Oregon in 1848. Their six-month adventure, with the help of the Herzog family, became a journey into their own hearts. They faced dangers and hardships to realize their dreams - dreams they were willing to walk halfway across a continent to attain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Boos
• Release date: Nov 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452316659

Kevin Boos

Kevin Boos was born and raised in Wisconsin. He graduated from Idaho State University with a Bachelor of Science degree in Elementary Education. During the following thirty-five years, he taught pre-kindergarten through eighth grade students in Idaho, Wyoming and Nebraska. He currently lives and teaches in Nebraska. His interests in the outdoors, wildlife and the Oregon Trail have provided topics for his books.

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Isaac

A Journey to Oregon

By Kevin Boos

Published by Kevin Boos at Smashwords

Copyright 2001 Kevin Boos

Discover the Oregon Trail at http://www.kevinboos.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1 - Dreams

Let’s run away, Isaac said one afternoon while we were working in the fields. Let’s go to Oregon!

Do you think we can run fast enough to get away without being caught? I asked while watching a family pass by us in a wagon pulled by three yoke of oxen.

He looked over at me and said, I’ll race you to that wagon. From there we can get to the river. They'll never find us once we get that far.

After a quick look over his shoulder Isaac dropped his hoe and was gone. I didn’t have time to think. If I hesitated there wouldn’t be time to get away. If I followed him, could we really make it to Oregon? Before I knew what I was doing, I was racing after Isaac.

He made running in his old work boots seem effortless. His tall, lanky frame disappeared near the banks of the Mississippi River. When I finally caught up with him, I was out of breath and fell to the ground. My heart was pounding, both from fear of being caught and from running.

Shh, Isaac said. I don't think anyone saw us. Let's stay here and catch our breath.

I was breathing too hard to even answer. After about ten minutes we stood up and started walking upstream. We had hiked in silence for quite a distance before a worried look came over Isaac's face. What's wrong? Is someone coming? I asked.

No, but we have to go back! he said. I need my journal!

You need your what? I gasped.

My journal.

Isaac, we're going to Oregon. If anything, we need clothes, food, money, a wagon and a team of oxen. We don't need a journal.

My life is in that journal, he replied. Everything I've done and letters from Ma and a drawing of her and Pa are in there. When I had no one else to share my thoughts with, my journal was always there. I can’t just leave it.

He was willing to give up security, three meals a day and a bed to sleep in, but not a tattered, old book and a small drawing of his parents. If we go back, we'll be caught and punished. Do you remember what happened to Johnny when they caught him?

I’m not going to Oregon without it! he insisted.

I could see he wasn’t going to change his mind, so I said, All right, but let’s wait until it’s dark so no one will see us.

I guess you're right, but how are we going to get back in? The doors are all locked at night.

The lock on the back door to the kitchen is broken, I answered. We can get in there.

We hid in the canes along the river and waited for night to come. While lying there in the afternoon sun, I thought back over the past several years. Ma and Pa died when I was a baby, so I was taken to an orphanage at the edge of St. Louis, Missouri. It was the only home I ever knew.

Isaac also lived in the orphanage. His pa couldn’t stay in one place for long. About a year after Isaac was born, his pa left to find his fortune. He planned to return for his wife and son when he struck it rich. That was thirteen years ago and he still hasn’t struck it rich, or at least he hasn’t come back for them.

Do you ever wonder where your pa and ma are, Isaac?

Everyday, he answered. He paused before adding, Sometimes I’m angry at Ma because she deserted me just like Pa did. But then I tell myself she was poor. I guess she had no choice.

I thought about what he said and knew that many people had no money. Even with struggling and hard work, his ma couldn’t afford to give him a decent home, clothes, and food. She took Isaac to the orphanage so she could work to provide a better life for him. After a few years she didn’t come by to visit very often, Mr. Schwartz told me. She stopped coming entirely by the time he was six years old.

Isaac and I had talked of running away before. Oregon was always the favorite destination. In our imaginations, we had been there over and over again. Until now, it was just talk. But now we would finally be living what had only been a dream.

I didn’t realize it then, but Isaac’s dream of Oregon was different than mine. I wanted to go to Oregon to find land. A place that was mine. A home and a farm. A new life where I would be the boss. There I could decide when I would get up, when I would go to bed, and what I would do each day. I would plant the crops and raise the animals I wanted. I was afraid that if I didn’t go soon the good land would all be claimed.

Isaac also wanted to go to Oregon to find land, but not a farm and home. He wanted a wilderness. To him, land was not something to own, but a place to lose one’s self in. He wanted to watch the plants grow, talk to the animals, and listen to what they had to say in return. He was afraid that if he didn’t go soon, the wilderness would all be tamed.

We never talked about why we wanted to go to Oregon before we left. I guess he thought there was no other reason than his. I didn’t realize there could be any other reason than mine. It was not until later that summer that we both learned we didn’t share the same dream.

We were getting hungry, but were afraid to look for something to eat for fear of being caught. As the sky darkened, the stars began to appear. A falling star streaked across the sky just as Isaac whispered, Let's get my journal.

I had hoped he’d given up on that idea, but he hadn't. Can't you just get a new journal? I asked. You can remember the past stuff and write it down when we get to Oregon.

No! he insisted. I'm not going to Oregon without it!

Well, let's get going, I mumbled.

When we got back to the orphanage, all of the rooms were dark except Mr. Schwartz's. We hid behind the lilac bushes until he turned out his oil lamp. We waited a few minutes for him to fall sound asleep before creeping towards the kitchen door.

Isaac reached for the handle and turned it. It opened just like I knew and dreaded it would. There would be nothing to stop him.

You wait here, he whispered. I may need your help.

If you get caught, what can I do to help? I muttered.

I'm sure you'll think of something, he answered before disappearing through the darkened doorway.

I waited on the grass just outside the kitchen door. There wasn’t a sound after Isaac left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. I was there to help him, but how? What could I do? If I ran to help him, I could also be caught and the memory of Johnny’s beating and extra work never left me.

I was lost in my thoughts when an upstairs window lit up. Mr. Schwartz shouted gruffly, Who's there! Isaac? Abe?

Isaac didn't answer. I heard a door slam and the sound of footsteps as someone ran across the wooden floor upstairs.

Hurrying as fast as I could, I ran around the orphanage and banged on the front door to distract Mr. Schwartz. I ran to the road and hollered at Isaac to hurry, hoping that Mr. Schwartz would hear me, and Isaac would understand my trick. Then I ran back to the kitchen door.

My plan worked. I looked over my shoulder and saw Mr. Schwartz run out the front door with his nightshirt on. As I reached the back, Isaac crashed through the screen door.

I've got it! he said.

Let's get out of here! I answered.

When we reached the river, Isaac handed me my jacket, an extra pair of pants and a shirt. When old man Schwartz ran down the stairs looking for us, I grabbed these. All of the other boys just stood and stared, too afraid to move. They think we’ll never get away. Remember that bread we smelled baking at lunchtime? I grabbed a couple of loaves. I'm sure they won't miss them too much.

This time we didn't stop to rest. We kept on running along the Mississippi River. After about a mile we both collapsed on the bank. This isn't going to work, I said, gasping for breath. We don't know the way.

I have a guidebook, Isaac said. It’s written by Lansford Hastings. Here it is, he continued while pulling the book from his pocket. It tells us how to get to Oregon, what routes to go on and what to bring with us.

It was too dark to see and we both just lay there while reality sank in. We had no home. We had no money. We had very little food. All we had was a dream and a guidebook. A dream of running away to some far off place we had only heard of before and a guidebook that told people who owned oxen and wagons how to get to a wilderness called Oregon, an almost unimaginable distance away.

As we caught our breath, we broke a piece of bread off one of the loaves and ate it. Then we drifted off to sleep.

The next morning we woke up dirty, hungry and cold. I thought about asking Isaac if he thought we should turn back. The look on his face told me he was thinking the same thing, but then a steamboat loaded with wagons and emigrants heading for the West passed by. We both knew at that instant we could never give up our dreams.

Chapter 2 - The Big Muddy

The Oregon Trail starts at Independence, doesn’t it? I asked.

Isaac nodded his head in agreement, before saying, "Let’s see if we can get a